


Birthdays Suck

by keylimepie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Fluff, Gen, Sam Winchester Big Bang 2019, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Sam Winchester's Birthday, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: Sam Winchester isn't having the greatest of birthdays. He's off on a hunt, nothing new about that. But Dean is being extra annoying, and worse still, Dean and everyone else he cares about seem to have forgotten about his birthday. With not even so much as a "Happy Birthday" as the day drags on, Sam is forced to conclude that birthdays suck. Will Sam's sucky birthday turn around?





	Birthdays Suck

**Author's Note:**

> **Entry for the 2019 Sam Winchester Big Bang**
> 
> Illustrated by the amazing AmberDreams! Art masterpost here: https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/607302.html
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely WaningGrace! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who poked me into doing this and provided the emotional support and hand-holding I needed. Love you!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/housefullofbooks/46096361835/in/photostream/)

The Impala bumped and bounced over the poorly maintained two-lane country highway. Sam sighed and clutched his thighs tighter around the drink cup pressed between them. It was the first of May and the last snowfall of a particularly bad winter had been just a few weeks ago; road departments were only just beginning to find and patch the potholes that had come from it, and this road was probably not high priority. 

“This town is barely a speck on this map. Are you sure we’ll even find a motel here? We’re probably going to have to backtrack just to-” 

“Maybe, maybe not. Let’s just get started on the investigation and worry about that later, alright?” Dean eased his foot harder against the accelerator and stifled a yawn. 

“Okay, but it’s like, late afternoon, and we’ve been on the road all day.” Sam pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the travel app, looking for motels. 

“Wah wah wah. Jesus, Sammy. Get ahold of yourself. You sound like a baby.” Dean grinned over at him, softening the insult with a smile. 

Sam snorted. “Baby? Hardly. If you’ll recall, tomorrow I’m-” 

“Whoa!” Dean exclaimed, suddenly swerving into the other lane before correcting back. “Holy crap, did you see that squirrel? That was a big squirrel. Ran right in front of me, it did. Squirrels. They do that.” 

Sam rubbed his shoulder and picked up his phone from the floor. “Dean, I don’t even think there’s anything to this case. It hardly sounds like-” 

“Only one way to find out. Oh, look. Only five miles to go. Hey, are there any of those cheetos left?” 

“Just the flaming hot ones.” Sam wrinkled his nose. 

“Perfect. Fork ‘em over.” 

* 

Sam leafed through the file folder the police chief had handed him as they walked through the hallway toward the morgue. Pages of printed forms, a few grainy photos, clippings from the newspaper, photocopies of the guy’s license and other documents, and a few sheets of yellow tablet paper bearing handwritten notes. 

“Not sure why the FBI feels the need to investigate this,” grumbled the chief. He was a grumpy old guy that reminded Sam a little of Bobby. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to hang around the office too long today, as it was finally good fishing season and his grandson would be waiting. 

“Me neither, to be honest,” said Sam, with a grimace toward Dean. “I just go where I’m told.” 

“We just need to be real thorough,” Dean said, flashing a charming smile. “There were a few things that pinged similarities to other cases, so here we are.” 

“So what, you thinkin’ like a serial killer or some crap?” the chief frowned. “Because I just can’t see how this is anything but a suicide, fellas. Hell of a creative one, but I just… well, whatever. Take a look.” 

He opened the drawer and pulled out the slab containing the body. Sam and Dean snapped gloves on and pulled the sheet back. The dead man was in decent condition, no marks or wounds until they got to the chest. 

“See, he just… well like the old saying, fell on his sword. Looks like he propped it up and stabbed himself through the chest with the force of his own body falling on it.” 

“That’s how you found him? Face down, impaled on his sword?” Sam asked. “Because that’s… yeah, I guess someone could accomplish that if they really wanted to, but look at this… this hole is just way too big for…” Sam grimaced and stuck his fingers into the wound in the chest and poked around a bit. He exchanged a look with Dean. 

“Did you guys do any kind of post mortem?” Dean asked. 

“Not yet. Just cleaned him up and stuck him in there. Lou ain’t in until Tuesday.” 

“So no one bothered to figure out that his heart is missing.” Sam tucked the sheet back up around the body and snapped his gloves off. 

“Guess he didn’t do that to himself,” the chief sighed. 

* 

“I can’t believe this,” Dean muttered to himself as they walked down the hallway. 

“Dean you’re the one who said this was a case. I’m the one who shouldn’t believe this. I’m sorry. You were right. It’s good that we came to check it out.” 

“Yeah I guess so,” Dean said, scratching the back of his neck. “Well I guess we’re stuck here for a few days at least, huh.” 

“Uh.. what did you expect?” Sam scoffed. “Look, I’m going to review these case files and find some friends and family to question, try to get a feel for who might be acting wolfy around here. Maybe you can-” 

“Actually I just need to go make some phone calls,” Dean said, suddenly agitated. “You got this, Sammy. I’ll be back in a few.” He slapped Sam on the shoulder and headed outside. 

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times. “What the hell,” he muttered, before finally settling down at an empty table to read through the file. 

* 

“Cas! Cas, we’ve got a big problem,” Dean hissed into the phone. He was leaning against the car. The parking lot was unpaved, just a rough patch of hard packed dirt with a few cop cars, personal vehicles, and a plow truck scattered haphazardly. The few employees of the town’s police department, government offices, and road maintenance department all shared this parking lot. Through the window, Dean could just make out the shape of Sam’s back where he bent over the file. Good, the faster they could work this, the better. 

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel replied, concern in his voice. 

“It’s a case! It’s actually a frigging case!” Dean exclaimed. 

“But that can’t be. You were sure that it was just a death weird enough to make your story seem plausible enough to get Sam to leave with you for a drive up there and back that would encompass just the right amount of time.” 

“Yeah, well. Dude’s heart is gone. We’ve gotta find this werewolf before we can come back home. I just don’t think tomorrow evening is going to happen.” 

“It’s only 5 pm. If you wrap up the case by noon tomorrow, you’ll make it back.” 

“Are you serious? There’s no way I can-” Dean flung his fingers through his hair. “There’s no way we can reschedule this.” 

“Most of the guests would probably not be able to reschedule, I’m afraid. We could still have the cake whenever you get back of course, but…” 

“It would not be the wild, huge-ass surprise birthday shindig my brother deserves,” Dean sighed. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see what I can do, Cas.” 

“Keep me posted,” Castiel said. “And stay safe.” 

* 

Dean sat down opposite Sam at the table and picked up the folder. “Whadda we got? Any ideas?” 

“Uh. Well let’s see. He lived alone. No close family. He was found by a co-worker when he didn’t show up for work the next day. He had a girlfriend but they were probably on the skids, possibly an ex. I don’t know, Dean. I guess in the morning we’ll go check with the girlfriend and then the co-worker. See whether either of them could be it.” 

“Actually why don’t we do that tonight? In fact, divide and conquer. I’ll hit up the girlfriend, you get the co-worker.” 

“I figured we’d get dinner and find a motel… it’s late Dean, we’re going to have to bother these people at home…” Sam sighed. “Couldn’t we just do it tomorrow?” 

“What are you, five? Is it past your bedtime?” 

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I’m not- I’m not five, Dean, as a matter of fact-” 

“Alright, so let’s get to work.” Dean picked up the sheet with the information about the girlfriend. “Meet you at the diner across the street when we’re done.” 

* 

Dean was already seated in the corner booth at the diner sipping a soda when Sam walked in and slid into the seat opposite him. “How’d it go?” Dean asked. 

“Okay, I guess. The co-worker says the vic was a good worker, and pretty much a keep to himself kind of guy, so he thought it was weird when he just no-showed for work. What he also found weird was that the girlfriend had recently broken up with him and there were rumors around town that she was planning a trip - some said a vacation, some said she had taken a job in Texas and was going to be relocating. The guy was pretty depressed about it.” 

“So that would make the suicide seem to have a motive.” 

“Or she’s getting rid of him and heading off to howl at the moon elsewhere. So did you find her? What did you think?” They paused as the waitress approached and set their food down. Dean had ordered for them both while he was waiting. Sam was pleasantly surprised that Dean had gotten him a chicken pasta dish with veggie noodles and a side salad. He twisted the fork in the mass of zucchini noodles and took a big bite. 

“No answer at the door. Place seemed deserted. But I had a look through the trash and there’s a receipt for a vacation cabin rental, a place not too far from here. I say we go check that out tonight.” Dean picked up his burger, the “southwestern special”, and bit into it. Salsa and queso dripped off of it onto the plate, and Dean closed his eyes blissfully as he chewed. 

“Moon is full tomorrow, Dean. It makes sense that she’d rent some temporary digs - she’s not going to want to travel for a few days until it’s waning again. But our best bet of finding her would be tomorrow night. And in the meantime, we should spend tomorrow seeing what else we can find out about her, scope out the place a little-” 

“Or we could just get this over with tonight,” Dean said, poking a tortilla chip into the little dish of sour cream. “Gank the bitch, hit the road in the morning.” 

“Dude, what is up with you? You got a hot date or something? We don’t need to be in such a hurry.” 

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sam was right; he wasn’t acting normal about this and he was about to blow the whole thing if he didn’t dial it back a little. “Fine, you know what. Let’s just go find a room, alright?” 

They had lucked out. Small though the town was, there was one little motel. It was at the far northern end of town, on the two-lane highway they’d come in on. Only a few cars sat in the parking lot. Across the street was a hulking factory building that had seen better days. A tractor trailer was idling in the parking lot, the driver preparing for an overnight run. It was the only sign of life anywhere nearby. 

The room was bland and nondescript. The hard-packed green carpeting harbored the smell of mold and cigarette smoke. The walls were covered in a garish floral wallpaper, marred with numerous scrapes and stains, as well as a few dents and barely-patched holes. Business as usual for the Winchesters. Sam brushed his teeth and changed into pajamas, and sat cross-legged on the bed he’d claimed, leafing through a book. 

Dean sat on the other bed, his legs crossed at the ankles, his boots still on. “Ain’t you tired, Sammy? You’re the one who wanted to get a room instead of finishing the case.” 

Sam looked up from his book. “I mean, I’m not dead tired. Want to wind down a bit before I sleep. You- are you going back out?” 

“Oh, um. Yeah I thought that bar looked kinda interesting.” 

“The place on the main street with all the neon signs, and the ‘happy hour til 9’? Seems like a basic ordinary small town bar. Nothing special.” 

Dean nodded. “Pretty sure it’s the only bar in town. Figured I’ll at least give it a go. Pool, darts, a beer or two.” 

Sam shrugged. “Well don’t stay out too late, alright? And don’t wake me up when you come back in.” 

Dean drove off a few moments later. It had been almost too easy, he thought. He cruised right by the bar, appealing as it was, and headed toward the vacation cabins outside of town. 

* 

Sam woke up with the morning sun in his eyes, streaming in through the cracked blinds. “Hey Dean, we should get up and get going for the day What time is it, anyway?” He rolled over and squinted at the other bed. It was still neatly made. Dean must’ve hooked up at the bar. 

He picked up his phone from the bedside table. 7:23 AM, May 2nd. There was an alert from Google wishing him a Happy Birthday. It was the only birthday message. Sam sighed and sat up. It wasn’t like he had ever made a big deal out of his birthday anyway. But this year… something in him had hoped that this year would be different. There was a relative scarcity of problems to be solved. His family had grown so much, with his mom back, with Gabriel and Jack around, with frequent contact from the friends who were extended family. Surely someone would have remembered? 

More importantly, Sam realized that he had no texts from Dean. Nothing whatsoever. That was strange, birthday or no birthday. Dean never failed to text Sam if he wasn’t returning for the evening unless there was something wrong. If he’d gone home with a girl, he would at least send Sam a quick message, even if it was just a series of suggestive emojis with a “don’t wait up.” 

-Where are you?- Sam texted. -Call me- he added. 

Sam got dressed, made some coffee in the crappy little coffeemaker, and sat at the table to flip through his notes for the case. But he couldn’t settle down and stop worrying. When Dean still hadn’t replied ten minutes later, he picked up the phone and dialed. No answer, and it went to voicemail. Which wouldn’t be that unusual if he was enjoying a morning-after romp in the shower or something like that. Sam cringed, trying not to let the mental pictures form. 

He stepped outside and shut the door behind him. It was shaping up to be a nice warm spring day. Sunny, the sky was a beautiful blue. Sam glanced around the parking lot. Stealing a car would probably attract an awful lot of attention in a town this tiny. The bar was less than a mile away, and he was a quick walker. He headed in that direction. 

The bar had closed at 2 a.m, according to the signage, but would reopen at 8. There was no sign of Dean or the car anywhere. The building had a large glass front window, and the heavy wooden door had panes of glass at the top, and through them Sam could see a woman inside moving around, taking chairs off tables and setting up for the opening. Sam knocked on the door. When she glanced up and scowled at him, he pulled the badge out of his pocket and held it up, with a friendly smile to soften the blow. She continued scowling but opened the door. 

“What?” she asked, squinting suspiciously at his badge. She was a middle-aged woman with stringy brown hair, in jeans and a blue sweater. Her face was creased with frown lines. 

“Sorry to trouble you, I- my partner and I are investigating a case here in town and I believe he may have come here last night after we’d finished for the day. Have you seen him?” Sam fished his phone out of his pocket as he spoke and thumbed through to a photo of Dean, one that wasn’t too weird. He found one of Dean holding up a package of RingDings in a Gas n Sip. It would have to do; most of the others Sam had of his brother involved him covered in monster guts or brandishing questionable weapons. Or worse, pantsless blackmail fodder. 

“I haven’t seen that guy. Or any RingDings.” She quirked the corner of her mouth in a half-smile. 

“Were you here last night?” 

“Til after midnight. I didn’t stay to close, though.” She turned and went back to moving chairs to the floor. 

“Yeah, I think he would have come in somewhat earlier than that.” 

“We weren’t very busy yesterday, and I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed if he was here. Sorry. Maybe he headed out of town for a little more exciting downtime?” She shrugged and gestured around at the tiny bar. “Good luck, hope you find him,” she added flatly. 

“Thanks.” Sam tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed back out again. 

He tried calling again, but it just rang and rang. Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair. There was something definitely wrong with Dean. Should he call for backup? No, first he should try to figure this out before he worried anyone else. Where else would Dean have gone? He wouldn’t have gone off to an out of town bar; he was the one who wanted to finish this hunt quickly and not goof around here too long. 

“Dammit,” Sam muttered as it dawned on him. Now that he thought about it, Dean had looked a little cagey last night when he was leaving. “Dean, you frigging idiot.” 

Sam went down an alley and found a dilapidated Honda Civic parked in a driveway there. It was a mess of a car, a variety of colors, patched together from various former cars like a homemade quilt, with a fair amount of rust making up the majority of it. No time to be picky at this point. He quickly broke in and hotwired it, and headed out of town towards the vacation cabins, the car belching bluish smoke behind him. 

* 

Dean woke up in pain. It seemed that he’d fallen asleep sitting in a hard wooden chair. And his arms were behind him. Tied behind him. Tied tightly with very scratchy rope. He twitched his fingers. They ached from poor circulation. “Well this sucks,” he muttered. 

He remembered. He’d found the werewolf. He’d thought everything had been a piece of cake. There had been a brief struggle but he’d easily been able to kill her, even though she was all wolfed-out. He’d been heading back to the car when something had hit him. His head and shoulders still ached from the blow. Now, who had been hanging out with wolf lady and decided to bash him and tie him up, and why? His phone kept buzzing in his pocket. Probably Sam. Sam was going to freak. 

Dean sat there, working at the ropes, though there didn’t seem to be much hope of loosening them, and debating whether to speak up and try to get whoever’s attention, or if that would make things worse. He wiggled a little in the chair, testing whether it would likely break apart if he threw himself over sideways hard enough. Unfortunately it seemed pretty sturdy. Heavy wood, old-fashioned construction. He’d probably just hurt himself and still be stuck to the chair, sideways on the floor instead. 

As he was pondering his options, he heard a car pull up. Well, this should be interesting, one way or the other. Dean wiggled his legs and found out that they, too, were tied to the chair. That really reduced his options. 

* 

Sam stepped out of the car, gun drawn. He’d parked next to the Impala, which at least looked just fine. No blood, no new dents. He crept toward the front door of the cabin. The door was ajar, the breeze making it creak on its hinges. He stepped through the door, cautiously looking around the corners. Just as he turned to check behind the door, there was suddenly a guy lunging at him. Growling. With big fangs and huge wolfy eyes. The werewolf grabbed Sam by the forearm, steering the gun away from itself. 

“Sam!” Dean shouted. “Sammy!” Sam barely managed to glance over and register that Dean was in a chair in the kitchen area of the cabin, just through the doorway. He had started to rock and thump the chair. Sam continued wrestling with the werewolf, even as the fangs were coming toward his neck. 

Sam struggled to regain control of his arm. If he could just get one clean shot at the werewolf, maybe that would be enough to get it off of him, and get a killing shot in. But it was taking all of his strength to keep from being bitten or clawed. Dean was still thumping and making a lot of noise, but Sam ignored it. 

Then Dean suddenly let out an ear-piercing whistle. It was kind of annoying as far as Sam was concerned, but the werewolf suddenly froze up and let out a howl of distress. It was enough for Sam to gain the upper hand, and the werewolf soon dropped, a silver bullet through his heart. 

* 

Castiel stood on a ladder with crepe paper streamers and tape, festooning the walls of the bunker library. Nearby, Jack sat with a packet of balloons and a helium tank. Claire tied ribbons around each balloon and tied them to the furniture, posts, anything around the room she could manage to tie a balloon to. Donna sat at a table expertly carving a watermelon into a whale shape. 

“Cas, have you heard from them lately?” Jody asked. “They need to be underway within a few hours to make it back in time.” 

“I haven’t spoken to Dean since last night, but he felt confident that they could manage. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

“Well on that note, I’m going to head to the supermarket and pick up the cake,” said Mary, picking up her car keys from the table. “Who wants to come for the drive?” 

“Oh heck, I’ll ride along,” said Gabriel. “I love supermarkets. And cake.” 

“Keep your fingers out of that frosting, Gabriel,” called Rowena. 

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, his hand over his heart, a faux innocent look on his face. 

* 

Sam grunted and strained as he dragged the second werewolf body out to the hastily constructed pyre. The female werewolf had already been placed there, and Dean was busy splashing gasoline around the base of the wood. 

“Who’d have figured the werewolf girlfriend was two-timing the vic with a werewolf dude?” Dean mused. He helped Sam heft the body up onto the wood pile, then lit the fire, willing it to burn quickly so they could get out of there. 

“Well, maybe we would have figured it, if we’d finished the damn investigation instead of you running out here alone like an idiot,” Sam grumbled. 

“Nah, we probably wouldn’t have. Still would have found out the hard way.” 

“Yeah well at least it would have been two on two!” Sam glared at Dean. His earlier fear for Dean’s safety had coalesced itself into anger, and it didn’t seem like it was going to dissipate anytime soon. He couldn’t stop thinking about how his brother had almost become werewolf brunch on his birthday, of all days. 

Dean pretended not to notice Sam’s irritation. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, which only pissed Sam off more. “At least we can head out soon, right? Nice leisurely drive home on a beautiful spring day. Maybe stop and see the twine ball. Could be fun, right?” 

Sam scowled. “I don’t want to see the twine ball again. Maybe we could hit the art gallery in Lincoln on the way back through? There’s this exhibit of charcoal-sketch landscapes-” 

Dean made a snoring noise. “Yeah right, Sam. Art gallery. That’s hilarious! Nah, we should probably just head right home on second thought. But hey, if you’re good maybe I’ll let you finger paint.” 

“Oh come on Dean, you’d think at least today you’d let me pick something fun to do, since it’s-” 

“It’s way, way past breakfast time, you’re absolutely right. I’m going to put this stuff back in the trunk and then we’re going to head to the Gas n Sip outside of town for the two-for-four-bucks breakfast burritos.” Dean walked away with the gas can before Sam could say anything else. Sam sighed. What else was there to say, anyway? Dean had clearly forgotten his birthday, and if Sam had to remind him it wasn’t exactly very meaningful. He wasn’t even going to get the tiny birthday niceties that he’d sometimes enjoyed over the years, of getting to pick a decent breakfast spot, or a quick entertaining excursion that was something that he wanted to do even if Dean didn’t like it. Sam trudged over to the Impala and got in the passenger seat. 

* 

“Home sweet home. Time to head in and hit the sack,” Dean said, easing the car into its parking spot in front of the bunker. The dashboard clock read 8:05. Perfect. 

“You’re tired? It’s, um, it’s kind of early yet. Thought maybe we could… thought you might want to go out. At least hit a bar or something. I might even treat myself to a cake batter martini.” Sam watched Dean’s face hopefully, waiting for the moment when the lightbulb went on. 

Dean snorted and made a genuinely grossed-out face at the thought of cake batter martinis. “No way. I’m beat, and it’s like a Wednesday night and there’s nothing going on, no reason to go anywhere. If you’re bored, you can get back to working on organizing the archive room.” He shut the car door and strode toward the bunker behind Sam. 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam sighed, swinging the door open and trudging down the stairs. “Maybe I’ll microwave a mug cake for one,” he muttered under his breath. “Stick a candle in it. Set myself on fire. Whatever. Birthdays suck.” He hung his head so low that his hair flopped into his eyes and he didn’t even bother to shift it out. It was home, he could find his way down the stairs without looking, and at the moment he was just too sad to care. 

He heard Dean come in after him and pull the door shut, and he turned to snap something snarky at his brother when he noticed that all the lights were off in the main rooms of the bunker. There was a colorful gleam of something shiny on the far wall that was just catching a fragment of light from somewhere, something that should not have been there. He had only a split second to register this before the lights suddenly snapped on and people leapt out from behind and under every piece of furniture in the room with a unison shout of “SURPRISE!” 

Sam jumped, catching himself quickly and holding the railing. He gazed across the sea of faces, the faces of his nearest and dearest, wearing party hats and huge smiles. He turned to look at Dean, who was standing at the top of the stairs with his arms folded across his chest and a big shit-eating grin on his face. 

“You- you- oh my god, did you know- Dean, you jerk!” Sam exclaimed, laughing. He shook his head and looked out at the room, his eyes shining with tears. “Holy crap, you guys. I can’t believe- I can’t-” 

“Believe it, old man,” Claire said, climbing up the stairs, a few steps higher than Sam so she could reach to snap a paper party hat on his head. This one was a bit fancier than the others and it said “Birthday Boy.” It had dinosaurs on it and a halo of blue tinsel around the bottom. “Come on, check out all the food. Jody said we couldn’t start eating ‘til you got here and had a chance to appreciate it all.” 

“This is… so great, you guys.” Sam was still stunned. He let Claire lead him toward the library tables, which were covered with platters of nicely arranged party snacks of all sorts. “This is beautiful. I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie. Just have a happy birthday,” said Mary, reaching up to kiss his cheek. 

Dean came up behind him and pressed a paper plate into his hand. “C’mon, grab some grub. I’m starving.” 

“This is why you wouldn’t stop for food on the way home!” Sam exclaimed. Dean just chuckled and put some baby carrots and a bite-sized quiche on Sam’s plate. 

“That’s right, so eat up now.” Soon, everyone was milling around the room, filling their plates, taking their turns to hug Sam and wish him a happy birthday. Alex started some music, and Rowena pressed a glass of wine into Sam’s hand. 

“There’s nothing in this?” he asked teasingly. “No secret herbs and spices?” 

“Ach, no! I’m not thinking to hex you on your birthday, Samuel. Buuuut… you may find that your glass never runs empty,” she said with a wink. “Just a little birthday enchantment.” 

“Hey kiddo,” said Gabriel. “Well I must say, you don’t look a bit older. Just as pretty as the day I met you.” 

Sam smiled wryly and shook his head a little. “Thanks, Gabe… I think.” 

“Anywhoo, I, uh. I kind of want to give you your gift now. It’s... time sensitive, and… can you just come with me?” Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “No tricks!” Gabriel added, holding his hands up. “Well I mean sort of- but not like- Please, just come.” 

Against his better judgement, Sam let Gabriel lead him down the hallway toward the bedroom that had become Gabriel’s by default, because the Enochian scribblings creeped everyone else out. 

“You’re taking me to your room?” Sam asked, his eyes widening. 

“Will you just come in?” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. Sam shrugged and let the archangel lead him into the bedroom and shut the door. 

“Now, close your eyes and hold out your arms.” Sam took a deep breath and did what Gabriel asked, certain that he was about to be the victim of some kind of prank. In a moment, there was a warm, soft, squirming mass in his arms. It let out an excited little yip. 

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, opening his eyes to look at the puppy. He was a small light brownish mutt with short curly hair and long floppy ears. “Oh, Gabe! He’s perfect!” Sam held the dog a little closer and let it lick his face, which had lit up in a huge smile. “But you know we can’t… I can’t keep him here, you know how our lives…” 

“Way ahead of you, Sammykins. See this crate over here?” There was, in fact, a dog crate affixed to the wall near the corner. “When you pop him in here… well I did some stuff and I made some arrangements, and long story short, that crate is a portal to a very excellent kennel in Vermont at which you have an account in perpetuity. Whenever you need to go out and take on the big bad monsters, you just crate the little guy in here, and he’ll come out the other side at the kennel and they’ll care for him as long as you need.” 

“Gabriel, that’s amazing.” Sam stooped down to give the archangel a hug, carefully with one arm while he settled the puppy in the other arm. “Thank you.” 

“Aww, don’t mention it,” Gabriel said, tightening the hug before letting him go. “Glad to see you smile, kiddo. Come on, you should head back out there. See the rest of your presents. Eat some cake.” 

Sam grinned happily as he carried the puppy back down the hallway toward the library. “Cake is the next thing on your agenda, isn’t it?” 

“Eh, you got me, Sam. I only showed up for the cake. And the ice cream. And the gigantic pack of red twizzlers that little blonde girl was sharing with me earlier. And the champagne Rowena brought. And the fifteen boxes of sugary cereal I got your mama to buy me at the supermarket. Ooh, and the cookies that the sheriff ladies baked.” 

“Word to the wise, if Claire hears you call her ‘that little blonde girl’ she’s going to angel blade your ass,” Sam said. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/housefullofbooks/33134910918/in/photostream/)

They reached the party and all attention was suddenly on him and the puppy in his arms. Sam put the puppy down and let him wander around and explore, and then Sam became the second most popular guy in the room. The puppy was getting most of the attention. He was a friendly little guy, and Sam didn’t mind at all playing second fiddle. The little dog made his rounds among the party guests, but kept coming back to check in with Sam every few moments. 

Dean came over and stood in front of Sam, a beer bottle in his hand and a serious expression on his face. “Sam. There is a dog in the bunker,” he said in the same tone that he would announce the presence of a poltergeist. 

Sam sighed. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” He had no doubt that sitting Dean down over a late brunch and making his case would go over better than trying to convince him in the middle of the party. It would also give Dean a little longer to become attached. 

“It better not chew my shoes.” Dean looked over at the little dog, who was enjoying some attention, and a cheeseburger, from Jack. Jack laughed in surprise as the dog licked his fingers, and Sam watched Dean’s expression soften just a touch. 

“Dean, nothing, and I mean nothing, wants to put your shoes in its mouth,” Sam said. “Don’t worry about it. Go have another burger.” 

Soon Mary and Jody came out with a large sheet cake and a tub of ice cream. There was a chorus of “Happy Birthday” led by Gabriel on kazoo, and then Sam blew out the candles and let Mary serve him cake and ice cream. 

“This is the first time I get to see my baby boy with birthday cake,” she said a little wistfully. 

“Well come sit next to me while I eat it, then,” he said, and they found an empty spot on the steps. Mary sat a few steps higher and Sam leaned against her knee while he ate the chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream from the paper plate printed with Spongebob - Claire and Alex had been sent to the party store for the supplies had procured a silly hodgepodge of themes. 

“Actually, I haven’t had many birthday cakes over the years,” Sam said. 

“I know. Dean told me. That was why he insisted on doing this for you.” 

Sam blinked. “This party was Dean’s idea?” 

“He cooked it up, started the planning, delegated. We all sort of ran with details.” Sam looked out into the crowd. Dean was heading over with cake in one hand and a beer in the other, as if he knew they were talking about him. 

“Hey man,” Sam said. “Thank you for… for doing this for me.” 

“It’s good? Not too fussy? Not too… chaotic?” 

“Dean, it’s perfect. It’s exactly-” 

“Is this gonna go all chick-flick?” 

“Yeah it is.” Sam handed his plate to Mary, stood up, and hugged Dean tightly. “You’re the best brother. The best.” He blinked rapidly, clearing a few stray tears. 

Dean patted Sam’s back awkwardly with the hand holding the beer bottle. “Happy Birthday, Sammy,” he said gruffly. Sam could hear the tears in his voice as well. 

“It is a very happy birthday, thanks to you.” Sam said. 


End file.
